


Next of Kin

by GraciousRandomness



Series: Deserving Prompts [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 3AM drabbles, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, I'm gonna say tequila, Like super drunk, No Beta, No Romance, Only two chapters, Poor Sam, Sam died during a mission and they're fucked up, Set after the fact, Shit what else, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve gets drunk somehow, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony breaks his sober streak, drunk, first try at angst, guys being dudes, not graphic, not sobby angst more like how they grieve in the movies, not sure how this started, pretty short, sorry - Freeform, with angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22751431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraciousRandomness/pseuds/GraciousRandomness
Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Clint, Tony, and Steve need a goddamn drink.(inspired by To The Ones Left Behind by NotJustFeet, it's much better and it's real good angst)
Relationships: Clint Barton & Sam Wilson, Clint Barton & Steve Rogers, Clint Barton & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Sam Wilson
Series: Deserving Prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533578
Kudos: 10





	1. "Pop a Bottle, will ya?"

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [To The Ones Left Behind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/443420) by [NotJustFeet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotJustFeet/pseuds/NotJustFeet). 



Tony broke out the liquor that night.

Turning his heel sharply, he quickly picked up the strongest whiskey he had from the bar, enough shot glasses for an army, and a Coke for the underage Spiderling. If he was still here. 

Entering the living room, Tony could feel the aura of grief, an atmosphere of tension that would crumble at the lightest push. Eying Clint and Steve, who were chatting quietly on the couch, he let his footsteps fall down harder to let people know of his presence. He quickly moved to the table and forcefully set his alcohol supplies down.

Clint squinted over the top of the couch, before clearing his throat. “Stark, I thought you were sober.”

Tony dropped his full weight into the chair. “Well, there’s always a time to start.”

Steve got up carefully. “Are you sure about this, Tony? You’ve worked really hard to get clean.”

Tony snorted as he poured himself a full glass of the magic brown liquid. “It’s a special occasion,” he said in a forcefully light tone.

Steve sighed, before Tony gestured to the empty glasses, all laid out next to his. “Besides, you guys can drink with me too. You can all watch me like the overprotective teammates you are, and fuss about me drinking all you want. See? I even brought a soda for the kid.”

“How commendable. Not serving kids alcohol, you really deserve a gold medal Stark,” Clint joked.

Tony sent a heated glare his way. “Well, do you want shots or not? ‘Cause if not, I’ll just use the other glasses for... something. I don’t know.”

“Well, if that something is vodka then hell yeah, count me in. I could use that. Can I invite Natasha, too?”

Steve shook his head. “Someone had to do the mission report to Fury.”

Clint snorted. “Mission report. Shoulda just watched the news, it would’ve been quicker.”

“Well Steve?” Tony gestured, pulling another glass out from the pile. “You in on this?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Steve said, running his fingers through his hair. “I can’t even get drunk, actually. I might just call it a night.”

Clint made his way over to pick up his whiskey. “Well, you’ve never had hard liquor before. And if you can’t get drunk, all the better, right? No reason not to.”

“Eh, I don’t want to make it a habit.”

“Come on, if you can’t get drunk then what’s the harm? We all know you have a bad side, Mr. Righteous,” Tony said. Clint hummed in agreement.

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

“We won’t judge you. It’s been a rough day.”

Steve sighed and sat down. “Alright then, pour me a round.”

Tony’s lip curved up. “Knew you had it in you. Tell me when to stop pouring,” he said, and started filling the glass.

And kept going.

And kept going.

And kept going.

Clint’s eyebrows furrowed. “Dude, it’s almost to the brim. You should probably cut it off.” Tony obliged.

“Neat or on the rocks?”

“I’ll have it neat,” Steve replied.

“Well damn, Steve. You’re gonna run me out of liquor if you’re drinking at this rate.” 

Steve nodded.

“Yeah, but I’m sure we can just get more.”

The three men sat in silence, before Clint took the first swig.

“So, Steve, how are you holding up? You know, after…”

Steve pursed his lips. “Why are you asking me that? You’re the one that had to see it all happen, that must’ve been… hard…”

Clint swished his alcohol around. “Yeah, but he is-”

Steve winced.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll shut up.”

Tony stared at the whiskey that Clint was swirling in a vortex in his glass. “Clint, stop playing with your food. Let’s just drink.” Clint scoffed.

“Alright, here goes.”

The three men picked up their glasses, and nobody said anything as shaky hands caused Steve’s full-to-the-brim whiskey to dribble down onto the table.

“Well, gentlemen, anyone want to say something?” Tony asked.

Steve stared straight ahead. “There’s not much to be said.”

“Cheers to that.”

“To Sam,” Steve said quietly.

“To Sam!” the others echoed.

They clinked their glasses before tipping their heads back and downing their drinks in one go.

  
Tony winced as the whiskey slid down his throat. It tasted like death.


	2. "What for?"

\---1 hour, 30 minutes, and 18 shots later---

“Clintttttt,” Tony slurred. “I feel fuzzy.”

“Hmmm. Maybe you are?” Clint said sleepily.

“I don’t know, am I?”

Clint tilted his head as his mouth opened in realization. “I’m motherfucking Hawkeye. Shit, how cool is that?”

Tony giggled. “Ha, Hawkeye. That sounds funny.”

“Heeeeeyyy! Don’t be meean.”

Steve sighed at the sight of the two sloppily drunk men in front of him. They had moved on from whiskey 45 minutes ago, with a slightly stumbly Clint raiding the bar downstairs for whatever drink was above 30 proof, which turned out to be tequila -- and Steve would be lying if after 18 full glass shots he wasn’t starting to feel a bit tipsy.

3 shots of the stuff and Tony and Clint were having trouble balancing.

6 shots and they were slurring.

Another half dozen more and they had no filter whatsoever.

Clint threw his hands in the air, drink sloshing over the side of his glass. “I wanna new arrow!”

Tony set his head on the table. “Oh yeah? What have you got in mind?”

“An arrow with a… fuck, uh… parachute?”

Tony groaned. “I’ll just put one in your suit.” Clint’s face lit up.

“I think I wanna new suit!”

Alright. He’d never seen Clint this wasted before. “Alright Clint, I think it’s time we head up, don’t you think?” Steve offered, ignoring Clint’s slurred “But I want a new suit….”

Tony groaned. “Ugh, buzzkill. Stop being a buzzkill.”

“That goes for you too, Tony. Pepper will kill you.”

Tony mumbled, laying face first on the table. “Mmm, what if I just kill her right back?”

Clint gasped drunkenly. “You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

“Also,” Steve pointed out, “Murder is very illegal.”

Tony snorted as Steve picked Clint up and started to half-support, half-drag him over to the couch. “You’re gonna be staying here for now. I’ll spare you from Natasha and Laura, or they might end up being the ones murdering you.”

Tony distantly slurred “Tag team!” as Steve hefted Clint onto the sofa.

“Mmm, thank you.” Clint sighed happily as he sunk into the cushions. “...blanket.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Thanksss.” Steve smiled slightly, before picking up the nearest throw blanket and throwing it haphazardly over Clint. He turned back to Tony.

Tony has been watching the two with interest in his eyes, while Steve stared back.

“What’s up?”

“Wanna ‘nother shot?”

“Tony no. At this rate you’ll give yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“Mm. I miss Sam. He would’ve taken the shot.”

Steve sighed. “Well, he did take the shot. Look where that got him.”

Tony rubbed his eyes. “Pep’s gonna kill me.”

Steve snorted in agreement. “Leave the alcohol, will you? I think tequila might be the only drink in the world that gets me tipsy.”

Tony slouched. “Just ask Thor, you idiot. He’s got the good shit.”

“Tony, Thor’s on Asgard. He hasn’t been on Earth for a year and a half.”

“Mm, shit. Forgot about that.” Tony sighed, pulling the drink to his chest as if it was a friend. “Why did Sam take the shot?”

Steve crumpled into a chair across from him. “There was no one else to take it.”

“That’s a lie. I could’ve.”

“No, you were too far away. I could’ve. We were just too slow.”

“It was just so quick, you know? But my suit’s quicker. Shit, I should’ve made the parachute manual instead of electronic.”

Steve ran his hands through the air. “It’s not like you could’ve done anything. It was targeting him. He shot, they retaliated with an EMP. You would’ve gone down too.”

Tony whistled as he brought his hand down in a wide arc. When his hand hit the table, he mimicked an explosion.

Steve looked pale. “Tony.”

Tony laughed dryly. “I’m drunk. Give me a break.”

Steve grumbled. “At least you’re self aware. You have to go to bed. You’re drunk, Stark, and unless you want to sleep next to Clint you better drag yourself up to your own floor.”

“I’ll just sleep here,” he said, gesturing to the table. “ ‘S comfortable.”

Steve clapped his hands. “No, no you’re not passing out there. Come on!”

“FINE! Fine, alright! I’m heading up, I’m heading…” Tony stumbled up from the table. “I’m…”

He didn’t say anything else as he drunkenly walked to the elevator, with a soft ding confirming that he was gone.

Steve sighed, running his hands across his face. He really should’ve broken up the drinking sooner. Shit, he helped Stark break his sober streak, didn’t he? Dammit. He glanced back at Clint strewn on the couch and heard his soft breaths, confirming that he was asleep.

He turned back to the messy table, the whiskey glasses tipped over with a mess of empty liquor bottles. He quickly and quietly put some of them into the sink for washing up tomorrow, except for the one last clean glass.

He sat back down at the table and stretched his back. With one last look to make sure Clint was asleep, he stealthily poured himself another glass of tequila.

And another.

And another.

And another.

He’d never felt so drunk before.

He felt like he could fly, but he knew that whatever goes up must come down, usually crashing and burning on the way down. Steve snorted to himself.

Checking on Clint one last time, he dragged himself to his room for a bad night’s rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh jeez whelp


End file.
